


Common Tuesdays

by MissusMonster



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Dylemma - Freeform, F/M, Humor, antihistamines, lack of verbal filter, runner ducks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3844828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissusMonster/pseuds/MissusMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, hellooo nurse," she said. </p><p>Dylan froze in the doorway.</p><p> Emma sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I don't know why I said that." She reached up to adjust the cannula under her nose, eyes still locked on Dylan. "I mean, out loud. Because I'm usually thinking it around you."</p><p>**</p><p> Emma has to take allergy medicine and loses her brain to mouth filter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Tuesdays

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Bates Motel. No copyright infringement intended. 
> 
> Author's Note: This one is kind of ridiculous. But I was in the mood to write something funny and I've had dylemma on the brain lately, so... yeah. And this is for my buddy, luvmesomejasper, and a conversation that we had recently. 
> 
> Since I wanted to keep this light, there is no mention or thought of the failed gun run, Emma's health, or Norman's spiraling decent into madness.

Common Tuesdays

It was a completely common Tuesday- as common as days could get in White Pine Bay- and Dylan was headed back to the motel to do some low-key maintenance work for Norma. He'd spent the past several days up at his farm, putting the finishing touches on the barn, and couldn't help the small swell of excitement when he glanced at the clock in the truck, green digital letters flashing 11:46. 

Emma worked on Tuesdays. More importantly, Emma worked from eight to one on Tuesdays. 

Not that Dylan really paid attention to her schedule. Or that he had purposefully decided to change the light fixtures in rooms three and seven on that particular day at that particular time. If he happened to finish the wiring job just about the time she would be finishing her shift it would be coincidence and nothing more. And if he asked her out to lunch and she said yes, well. That would just be pure luck. 

Alright, fine, Dylan admitted to himself. So he'd planned it. Sometimes a guy like Dylan had to make his own luck. 

Gravel crunched as he pulled into the lot of Bates Motel and parked next to Norma's Benz. He knew that he'd have to go up to the house to see her at some point before he headed back out into the woods, but... later. 

It was a brisk day, but the sky was bright blue and clear. He could hear the neon sign buzzing vacancy as he headed toward the office, but there were three other cars in the lot other than his and Norma's; two clearly belonging to guests, and Emma's pumpkin orange VW Bug. 

Norman came barreling out of the propped-open office door and Dylan had to jump to one side to avoid being knocked over. 

“Whoa, what's up with you?” he asked Norman's rapidly retreating back. His little brother ground to a halt and spun around. 

“Emma is acting very strangely today,” Norman said, spots of color riding high on his cheeks. 

Dylan had to bite back the sound of derision that wanted to escape; Norman thought that Emma was strange? “What do you mean?” 

“She's saying things,” Norman's eyes were wide, as if stressing some hidden meaning in his words. “Things Emma wouldn't normally say. I don't like it.” And he was gone again, making for the stairs that climbed up to the house at a steady clip. 

O-kay. That was strange. But strange and Norman kind of went hand in hand. When Dylan poked his head through the office door, everything seemed as it should have been. Emma was sitting behind the front desk, her chin resting on a closed fist. She was idly clicking the mouse pad on her laptop, the goofiest smile spread across her face. Auburn hair fell over her face and Emma blew her bangs back with a bored sigh. And then her wide brown eyes turned his way. 

“Well, hellooo nurse,” she said. 

Dylan froze in the doorway. 

What. 

Emma sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I don't know why I said that.” She reached up to adjust the cannula under her nose, eyes still locked on Dylan. “I mean, out loud. Because I'm usually thinking it around you.”

 

A blush rushed across his face, while at the same time he couldn't help but feel a little... smug. And a tiny bit confused. He and Emma had gone out to dinner a few times (not counting the mostly awkward family gathering) but really, they had been flirting around the thing between them. Whatever it was. 

Dylan edged toward the desk, slightly worried. “Are you alright?” 

“Hmm?” she glanced back at her laptop screen and clicked a few more times. “Yeah, I'm fine. Right as rain. What do you think of runner ducks?” 

“What?” Dylan had to agree with Norman- Emma was behaving strangely. “Emma, are you high?” She didn't look stoned, but she was kind of acting like she was. 

“What? No! That was one time, okay, and I just wanted to see what it felt like. But seriously, look. Runner ducks,” Emma picked up her computer, turned it toward him and Dylan was suddenly staring at a screen-full of pictures of long ducks standing almost upright. “They look like a prop for a comedian from 1946.” 

Dylan couldn't keep himself from smiling even if he wanted to, despite his worry. Emma was looking up at him, face full of earnest, pointing at pictures of runner ducks. 

“See? They have their little wings tucked behind their back like they're judging a dog show.” 

He reached out and lowered the screen of her laptop. “Are you sure you're feeling alright?” 

Emma grinned. She reached up and rested her fingertips along the ridge of his cheekbone. “You're sweet,” she said, and Dylan felt her touch like four points of heat against his skin. Her fingernails scratched along his scruff lightly and her hand dropped into her lap. “But I'm fine. I mean, I've been taking allergy medicine the past day or so because I had a mild reaction to the new laundry soap my dad bought. I had a take a little bit of a higher dose today, but it's fine.”  
Ah. 

Dylan leaned part of his weight against the desk and firmly told himself that he would not laugh. Whatever allergy medicine she was on must've been affecting her brain to mouth filter, and for the love of everything sacred, he would not laugh at her, holy shit. “Hey, your shift's almost up. Can I drive you home?” he asked, giving her his most charming grin. The last thing Emma should be doing is driving around, getting distracted by birds and shiny things. 

Emma's grin went even wider. “Do you want to park and make out?” 

Dylan's elbow slipped off the desk and he had to catch himself before he hit the carpet. Damn. “Maybe next time.” Dylan pulled himself back up. Son of a bitch, he hadn't even kissed her yet. Emma had pressed her lips to his cheek a few times, and that alone had been enough to have his head in the clouds for at least twenty-four hours. Just the thought of actually pressing his mouth to hers, letting his hands roam- “Definitely next time,” he said, voice going a little gritty. 

Emma pouted. Legitimately pouted. “Fine,” she sighed. “I'll just grab my stuff.” She grabbed her bag from one of the hooks in the back office and grinned at Norman, who was edging into the office around her, watching Emma with wary eyes. “I'll see you Thursday, Norman!” Norman made a startled noise in response and went to hide in the back office. 

Dylan followed Emma out into the parking lot and then headed for his truck. He opened the passengers door and stood back to give her room, but she just stood there, hand gripped around the handle of her oxygen tank, looking at him like he was crazy. 

“That's not my car,” she said, taking a step away from him and in the direction of her Beetle. “What are you doing? I can't go in there.”

Dylan's brow scrunched with confusion. “You've ridden in my truck before?” It came out like a question, but she had. Three times in fact. 

“Yeah, but,” her huge eyes flicked up to the seat of the truck. “It's so high. I don't think I can do it.” 

He let go of the door and offered Emma his hand. “I'll help you up.” 

She smiled at him again and took his hand in her soft one, but still turned and pulled him away. “Nope.” Dylan barely had time to kick the truck door closed before she dragged him away. Emma climbed into the passengers seat of her car, closed the door, rolled down the window and looked up at him. “Come on, you said you were driving.” 

Jesus Christ Bananas. 

Dylan pushed the drivers seat back as far as it would go before he even got in, and his knees were still somewhere in the vicinity of his ears. Emma dug the keys out of her bag, pressed them into his hand and patted his knee. “Let's go! I have food at home. Food that I will feed your mouth. Not by hand, but you know what I mean.” 

Dylan cranked the engine over and grinned. His common Tuesday was working out even better than he'd planned.


End file.
